Sugar and Spice

by Temple Madison

  But none of it was real.

  It was easy to fool them, so he continued year after year. He walked the same grounds, said the same words, all the time growing older and older. Why hadn’t he quit the church long ago and made a life for himself? Why had he stayed buried at St. Mary’s?

  The answer was easy. The rectory was comfortable, and it was a niche he fit into easily.

  But no more.

  If he lived through this ordeal, he would set his life straight. Without a sound, he slipped to his knees and said what might be his last prayer, the prayer of forgiveness, a prayer of goodbye to a higher power that deserved far better than him.

  Slowly his thoughts became feathered, and sleep overtook him.

  As the hands of the large grandfather clock slowly ticked the night away, the sun finally crept silently above the horizon, turning the deep purple of the night to a lovely shade of pink and orange. The mansion loomed tall and mysterious, shrouded in early morning shadows, its rural hush nudged awake by the ghostly sounds of urban life nearby.

  This is what Father Jon heard when he opened his eyes, along with the lingering dirge of a bad dream even though he couldn’t remember what it was. He looked around, finding himself still kneeling beside a dark wooden sleigh bed.

  He had fallen asleep while praying.

  Moving his eyes upward, he saw the untouched lacy pillow slips, clean, fragrant sheets, and an English rose comforter. It took him a moment to move himself, each and every joint crying out in pain. While in a groggy state, he raked his fingers through his hair and tried to wake up. Managing to get to his feet, he turned toward the sound of large trucks, motorcycles, and revved-up engines already on the highway at this time of morning and squinted into the light. He recognized the sounds of the city, so close and yet so far from the rustic setting of Halfmoon Landing.

  His gaze lifted, looking at the spacious room. He vaguely remembered when he and Judas had arrived the night before. He knew a little about architecture and knew that whoever built the looming mansion had taken its style from the romantics of the past. It had curlicues of gingerbread decorations strung out along the exterior, and a veranda that ran all around the house on the second floor.

  It seemed lonely, with no close neighbors. It stood near a ridge, the path from the mansion going downhill toward the church and the Reef. A decrepit old cottage that was once slave quarters stood on one side, and a graveyard guarded by stone soldiers on the other. The house was surrounded by ghosts of the past, and a carriage house with the same design as the house was out back, neglected. The wind blew through it, echoing through cracks and crevices.

  He knew now what his dream had been about.

  The wind that blew through those crevices made a sinister music all through the night, coloring his dreams and giving him pictures of spider webs that hung in the corners and bugs that crawled along the walls. The darkness that existed past the entrance seemed to heave with life.

  With this chilling picture still in his mind, he slowly rose from his bed and dressed in the clothes Judas provided him the night before. He looked up, startled, when a knock sounded on his door. He was just punching his shirt down into his pants when he called out, “Come in!”

  The door opened slowly. It was Dirk. “Father Jon Becker?”

  A stab of pain pierced him like a knife in his chest when he heard the familiar address. “Yes.”

  “Well, sir, breakfast is being served in the dining room. May I tell the mistress you will be taking your meal with the others?”

  “Yes, thank you. I’ll be down presently.”

  As soon as the door closed, Father Jon stepped over to the mirror and quickly combed his hair and rubbed the bristles of his five o’clock shadow. God, how he needed a shave. He felt lost without his toiletries. He certainly hoped the lady of the house understood the reason for his shabby appearance. Quickly throwing the brush down, he rushed out and down the stairs and took a couple of wrong turns before he found the dining room.

  “Please forgive me,” he said as he walked in, a little out of breath. “I got lost.”

  “Didn’t Dirk direct you?” Sugar asked, looking up at him.

  “No, but I…” His words quickly faded when he saw Sugar. A picture of her running through the dimly lit corridor of the church flashed in his mind. There, her beautiful face was covered by the rouged horror that haunted her, but now, with her porcelain beauty free of the taint of the full moon, he was rendered speechless.

  Her smooth white-blonde hair was gathered at her nape and twisted into a smooth, sophisticated chignon. Long, shining tendrils fell temptingly down over her smooth cheeks, giving her a seductive look. Behind those tendrils were her eyes, her stormy blue eyes, so beautiful, yet so disturbed. He could sense that she’d seen a lot in her life, done a lot, and yet innocence shone from her face that reminded him of an angel. “I’m sure it was an oversight, no harm done.”

  “Thank you for being so understanding, uh…”

  “Jon Becker…Fa…uh…you can just call me Jon.”

  Father Jon cut his gaze toward Judas, their eyes meeting with a knowing look between them.

  “My name is Sugar Duquesne. Mister…uh…Judas here has told me a little about your situation, so please feel free to stay if you like.”

  “Yes, thank you for your hospitality.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’m so sorry I have to come to the table looking so bad, but my razor—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. I think I can find something you can use.” Looking up, she said, “Dirk, you may serve now.” With a glance around the table, she said, “I hope you gentlemen are hungry.”

  The meal progressed in silence, with the usual clatter of dishes and silverware. Finally Father Jon looked over at Sugar. “Wonderful coffee.”

  Sugar returned his look with a smile. “Thank you. That’s what Dirk does best. He makes wonderful cof—” The coffee cup slipped from Sugar’s hand and clattered to the saucer. Trembling, she looked around, trying to keep composure with a twitching smile. “I’m sorry, I…” She clutched her stomach.

  “Sugar, what’s wrong?” Judas asked, panic in his voice.

  “N-Nothing,” she whispered.

  * * * *

  She was locking him out! He could tell that a twisting pain was tearing at her insides, and she still refused to trust him.

  She finally lifted her eyes to those around her. “If…If you’ll excuse me, I need…” She didn’t have time to finish her sentence before she jumped up and ran out of the dining room.

  Judas looked over at Father Jon. “I think I know what it is. I’m going after her. Maybe I can help.”

  “Can I do anything?” the Father asked.

  “She needs blood. The blood of animals can keep her going only so long. Last night instead of human prey, she stalked the animals in the forest. I found her out on the path between the church and the mansion. She could hardly make it back, so I carried her home.”

  “Then what I saw in the church…what you said…it’s all true.” Father Jon’s eyes registered fear. “She’s…my God, I can hardly believe such a thing.”

  “I know. Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He turned and ran out, but Sugar was already out of the mansion and running along the edge of the woods facing the exit off the highway. He knew immediately where she was going and followed the road all the way down to the sign that read Gypsy Reef Exit. About half a mile from there was a mortuary.

  It was still early, and no one was around. She managed to break the window of the embalming room and climb in. By the time he got there, she was drinking the blood of cadavers after it had flowed from the gutters around the embalming table and into the pails.

  “Sugar!”

  She jerked her head around when she heard him call her, but it was too late. Fingers of liquid warmth had already begun twisting through her. She was so engorged with blood, she became dizzy and fainted with ecstasy.

  Judas quickly picked her up
and headed back. He was careful to keep out of sight as much as possible as he walked along the edge of the trees. The brush thrashed loudly as freeway traffic zoomed by. If anyone looked his way, he knew the shadowy rustic surroundings might make someone mistake him for some grisly monster carrying a dead woman in his arms.

  Later, when Sugar woke up, Judas sat in a chair watching her. She sat up quickly, anger surging through her. “What are you, my nursemaid? This is the second time I’ve found you here watching me like I’m a freak at a circus! Don’t you have anything to do, somewhere to go?”

  “I’d love to be somewhere else, but as long as you pull stunts like this one, I can’t.”

  “You make it sound like I…” She pushed herself forward, pleading. “Don’t you understand? I can’t help what I do!”

  “Of course you can. I didn’t think so until last night, but you chose not to kill then, and today, instead of ripping someone’s throat out, you satisfied yourself on the blood of corpses.”

  * * * *

  He was right. How long could she keep hunting up substitutes for what she really wanted?

  With a note of embarrassment in her voice, she said, “I’m sure you can see that I’m perfectly all right. Would you please leave me to get cleaned up?”

  Judas slowly rose from his chair and turned toward the door. “If you need me, I’m in the next room.”

  “Parading along the veranda again, I suppose.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “What the hell are you looking for?”

  “When I see it, I’ll tell you.”

  Sugar watched him as he left. She didn’t know how to feel about Judas’s presence in her life. For the most part, he was in her way, keeping her from doing what she wanted to do.

  On the other hand, his actions were strange.

  Every day he spent hours roaming the veranda as if he were looking for someone to come walking down the path from the direction of the Reef. Time passed slowly, putting everyone’s nerves on edge, but still he waited, and waited, and waited.

  Chapter 19

  Determined to get some answers, Sugar finally confronted him.

  “You’ve been walking along that veranda for hours. “What the hell are you looking for out there?”

  “I told you about Lupercus. I’m looking for him to come down that path any day now…hell, any moment. I’m surprised he’s waited this long.”

  “Is this more lies you’re telling me? If he does exist, then where the hell is he? And what about this…this…person you brought in? Who the hell is he? He introduces himself as Jon Becker, but now I find out from Dirk that he’s the minister at St. Mary’s. What has he got to do with this whole thing?”

  “Look, he didn’t tell you because Lupercus threatened to kill him if he did. No one is supposed to know he’s a minister. I don’t know how Dirk found out.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “Why in blazes would I lie to you?”

  “I don’t know, I just…Look, I don’t want two strange men in my house. The only reason I said you could come back was because of him.” She indicated toward Father Jon’s room. “You know, like a chaperone.”

  “A chaperone?” He snickered. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

  “Smart aleck,” she said softly. “If I find out you’ve lied about any of this…” Her words faded when she noticed his scar. “Would you like me to get you something to wear over your eye?”

  “My eye?”

  “The scar. I thought you might want a patch or something to hide it. It looks painful.”

  Judas looked at her with anger so thick and so hot that he could have set fire to anything he touched. “Hell, no!” he yelled. “If you don’t like looking at it, turn your fucking head!”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “Let it rest. I don’t need your sympathy, my eye is fine.” With a sharp turn, he slammed out the door. Once in the hallway, he stopped abruptly. He knew he hadn’t any reason to blow his top. He was sensitive about his face. Now that his beauty was marred, he had no confidence, and it was one hell of a time to lose it, now that he faced the most important battle of his life.

  * * * *

  Just then the door opened and Sugar rushed out. She stopped abruptly when she found him just outside her door. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.” Suddenly she found herself being pulled into his arms, her words being shut off by his hungry lips. His kiss was punishing and angry, and yet it sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl, reminding her of the night of the last full moon. It seemed real, but since Judas never brought it up, she assumed it had all been an erotic dream.

  But this is real, she thought as she felt herself being pressed against the corridor wall. With both arms, she embraced him as he quickly reached down and brutally ripped at her panties. With her dripping pussy open to him, he thrust himself in and began a mad plunge.

  “T-The corridor,” she whispered. “Some…”

  “There’s no one here.”

  “Oh God,” she mumbled as she melted against him, anxiously receiving him into her cunt, his magnificent cock rubbing in and out, lifting her higher and higher. She knew Dirk, or even Jon Becker, could be along any moment, but she couldn’t have stopped Judas if an audience of a thousand had gathered around to watch. Instead she clung to him, her legs climbing, her cunt hot and wanting more. She cried out when he suddenly pushed in deeper, causing her hips to move faster, looser, her proper good-girl nature becoming loose and wanton. In a moment’s time, with this demon in her arms, she became the whore she fought against. And then suddenly a beautiful, warm orgasm blossomed throughout her, causing her to shift her head back and enjoy it while Judas moaned out his release.

  Suddenly she came to her senses and pulled away from him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Anger flashed in her eyes. “If you think you can come into my home and…and take anything you want, anytime you want, the answer is no. I’ve had my loves, and you and,” she indicated toward the other room, “that…that fake minister in there can’t measure up in any way, so don’t even try!”

  * * * *

  Judas was confused. She’d just been in his arms, eating him up, but now she acted as if she was taken against her will. Where Sugar was concerned, Judas felt as if he walked on moving ground. He was no longer sure of himself and felt like he would topple over at any moment. The one woman he wanted above all others practically raped him one moment and spat in his face the next. He looked at her with glowing eyes. “I notice you didn’t call for your chaperone!”

  Sugar’s eyes widened. She reached out and grabbed the first thing she saw and threw it. “Why you…”

  Judas ducked until he made it to the door, slammed it open, and ran through it. What the hell was he doing? He had run like a coward. A man who had been through as many wars as he, running from a woman’s wrath. Standing with his back to the shaking door, and listening as the bric-a-brac pounded against it, he had time to think.

  It was simple, he told himself. A war was more civilized, lines of defense drawn, attacks planned. A man knew what to expect in a war. But a woman, well, there was no way to know what she was thinking, especially when she was angry. If you were smart, you ran like a madman and hid until she was sane again. Yes, that was the answer. Run and hide. Any man, brave or scared, would run.

  But not tonight.

  Tonight Sugar had told him that she had to perform, and he had a feeling that this was the routine Lupercus was waiting for.

  Her performance tonight was called—The Dance of the Wolf.

  Chapter 20

  The dance of the wolf.

  The dance of the wolf.

  The dance of the wolf!

  The words whirled over and over in her mind as she walked in a mental fog to the stage area and then stopped. She stood quietly for a moment while she put her hand up to her forehead and closed her eyes.

  A man walked up and lightly touched her shoul
der. “Hey, babe, are you okay?”

  With dazed eyes she looked up at Casey Wilson, the walk-on they used for her to attack. “Oh, just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine.”

  “If you’re not feeling well, we can cancel this, you know…put something else on.” He shrugged. “A lot of men will be disappointed, but—”

  She smiled softly. “You know what they say, the show must go on. Besides, I can’t disappoint those sick perverts out there.” She grinned at him. “Or the one behind the scenes.”

  He returned the smile. “Hey, that’s my best role.”

  “You just make sure you come in on cue.”

  He winked. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Slipping through the curtain, she waited in the shadows, listening. On the expected downbeat, she leapt onto the stage and began her act. Everything was going great until she felt something, a stinging sensation much like what she felt when she was summoned by the moon. She turned and looked up at the round, mysterious papier-mâché object. She watched it, danced to it as if she worshipped it. It shimmered before her eyes. Was it her imagination? It had to be.

  She began her struggle. In only moments she realized she wasn’t acting, the pain was piercing, and she was about to mutate. She felt her inhibitions draining away as the rays intensified. The power was so strong it felt like electricity stabbing at her through the empty air. A ravenous hunger built inside her, pulling her toward a spicy fragrance she knew to be human blood. She turned toward the audience and danced along the edge of the stage. She leaned out dangerously, her arms grabbing at the men who dared to step up to the footlights.

  Her moves were new and blatantly sexy, but she couldn’t stop. She saw the excitement in their faces, heard the roar that sounded throughout the club as she came down off the stage and stalked through the crowd, looking for one, only one. Thinking she was playing with them, the men laughed as she grabbed at them in a threatening way, one and then another. Raucous laughter and wolf whistles broke out.

  “Take me, Sugar! Take me!” some called out while they teasingly evaded her reach.